• When Fist Pumping is Necessary

    I tried not to look like Julia Roberts at the polo match in Pretty Woman.  Not because of a polka dotted sun dress or suddenly being model material.  It had more to do with the fist pumping I was trying to control.  But the lyrics matched the beat of my heart…and my arms were already stretched high.  At this point, I didn’t even care that the only reason I made 8th grade choir was because I was sandwiched between two girls that could sang. I needed rescue / My sin was heavy / But chains break at the weight of Your glory / When I was broken / You were…

  • Living With Forgiveness

    The sun was beginning to peel back the night sky. It had been a long night, but today would be the day. He would gather the many and call a few. As their feet stepped out of the mass, their names would go down in Holy Writ. But no one in the crowd would have ever thought… But He knew. He knew that 11 would stay true and one would run into the night. He knew the tables would turn, and He still pulled up a chair. He knew the number of steps it would take to get up that hill, eyes squinting, blood dripping. But He didn’t even stumble…

  • Arms Held High

    I would have rather been punched in the gut by Hulk than hear the words that came out of his mouth. “I want a divorce,” it knocked the air straight out of me. Then he hung up the phone. I stood speechless on the sidelines of our oldest son’s soccer game. I was never speechless, especially at a sporting event. But words couldn’t move past the lump in my throat. What was I going to do? How would I tell his three children? Would they think we were working on soccer agility if I grabbed my kids and sprinted to the car? I had never felt so alone. Shouting my…